


All Caps Do Wakanda

by NerosLyre



Series: All Caps On the Road [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mutual Pining, questionable medical ethics, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerosLyre/pseuds/NerosLyre
Summary: A sequel to All Caps Do Europe, a cut scene from Civil War.After Steve busts Sam out of supermax they go unfreeze Bucky. Sam makes use of his experience as a counselor.* Things get awkward. T'Challa is there to provide cat pics.*Sam is an unofficial therapist for Bucky, who he slept with in the previous chapter and he indicates he wouldn't mind doing again. I tagged for dubious medical ethics.





	All Caps Do Wakanda

“You froze him?!”

“Now look, Sam, I--”

“You FROZE him.”

Steve does that annoying sigh-and-look-away thing he does. Sam is still fuming and they’ve barely cleared the prison airspace in the quinjet. It just seems so unnatural that he is defending Bucky from Steve. But--

“You froze him. I can’t believe this. You know what I do, you walked in on one of my sessions.” 

Steve looks up, startled and Sam has to take a step back and breathe deeply because Steve forgot. He fucking forgot. 

“I am a P. T. S. D. Counselor. I specialize in traumatic memories for veterans. And never mind that, Wanda here can actually influence people’s thoughts. But nooooo, you just put him in the fridge again.” 

“He did agree to it,” Steve says in a quiet voice. 

“He’s damaged!” 

Steve sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wanted to help him and didn’t have any time.” 

Sam sighs, the inherent goodness of Steve winning him over again. 

“Okay. It’s fine. We’ll unfreeze him when we get there and Wanda and I can work our magic.” 

“Um.” 

They drop off Wanda, Clint, and TicTac in London. Wakanda has a non-interference policy around their borders. No one gets in, very few get out. Special dispensation only. Steve and Bucky were allowed in because T’Challa wanted to make amends for all those times he tried to kill Bucky, turns out for no reason. Steve called ahead to get permission for Sam. Sam suggests a “ask for forgiveness, not permission” policy but Steve looks at him for a minute, then says: 

“So you want Captain America to try to trick an African King? That’s not a good look.” 

Sam wants to kiss him.

(Sam lets Steve get away with referring to himself in the third person because he’s actually not really. Sam can tell he still thinks of “Captain America” as a costume, a suit he can take on and off, a title that was bestowed and can be taken away. All that, and he still acts the way he does all the time.)

Steve smiles at him and makes the call. They’re given permission and turn the jet south. Steve punches in the coordinates and lets autopilot take over. He moves back to sit with Sam. 

“Are you alright? Did they treat you ok in prison?”

“Yeah. It was max security but nothing heinous. The only bad part was waiting for whatever trouble you got into. Are you ok?” 

Steve still has the remains of a split lip and some light bruising. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m glad you’re ok.” He slides his hand along Sam’s jawline, draws him in close. They don’t kiss yet, they’re sitting forehead to forehead. Sam’s already breathing hard. 

“Don’t get me wrong but, really?”

“What? This? Yeah.” Steve swipes his thumb across Sam’s cheek. “Do you know what kind of crazy route I had to take to keep lapping you?”

Sam blinks a lot. Their first meeting was years ago and feels like even longer, they clicked so quickly and so well. “Wait what? You… you were flirting?” 

“How else was I supposed to talk to the cute guy jogging around the mall?”

Sam gapes at him. Then he shoves his chest. Then he grabs him and makes out with him until Steve has to go take the com again. 

 

Two other jets flank theirs as they near the Wakandan border. Steve sits in the pilot’s seat and eases the quinjet down where they are guided. Sam hovers behind him, staring at the scenery. The land is more lush, the colors more vibrant, than he has ever seen anywhere. Even though they’re in the capital, greenery and flowers burst out from all the buildings. This is a culture that values nature and technology and doesn’t find them mutually exclusive. 

T’Challa is there to greet them. Steve inclines his head. “Your Highness.” 

“Captain. Good to see you again,” he says to Steve. He nods at Sam and leads them into the palace. “I’ve prepared some rooms for you. You should get settled and join me for a drink.” He’s got a smirk on his face that is kind of cute. 

A female bodyguard leads Sam down a plain hallway and points him to a room. It’s like a luxury hotel room with a huge bed, mini-fridge, couch, dining table, huge window and balcony overlooking a misty forest, the works. 

There are also pictures of birds all over the walls. Framed pictures. 

Steve called like three hours ago, they had to set all this up in a hurry. T’Challa is such an asshole. 

He’s already laughing when Sam storms into the common area. 

“Yeah yeah, ha ha,” Sam says, sitting down on a couch dramatically. T’Challa smirks and gets up from his seat. He picks up two brown bottles from a fridge and brings them over to Sam. He sits down next to him and takes out his phone. 

“Look,” he says and then they spend half an hour looking at cat instagrams on his phone. “I do apologize,” he says later and he almost sounds sincere but his smile is giving him away. “I did not know the type of bird you liked best.” 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Sam says, covering his face. 

“I know they call you falcon but you Americans are fond of your bald eagles but your zoos love penguins. I arranged for a variety.” 

“I was a para-rescue, that’s why I have the wings.” 

“Would you have prefered pictures of planes?” 

“Show me another cat picture.” 

T’Challa has a picture of himself petting an actual panther. It looks like it was taken inside this palace. He might have a pet panther. Sam doesn’t want to ask because he’s afraid if he does T’Challa will show it to him. Which would be awesome if he hadn’t been a smart-ass to the king this whole time. He might wind up fed to the panther.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s meeting with the doctors, they are deciding on a timetable to unfreeze your friend.” 

“Can’t they just… do it?”

“There is cycle time, similar to sleep but slower. It may be a few days.” 

“Days? Okay.” He was afraid they were going to make them wait weeks or even months. He can wait days. It’s the therapy that’s going to take a long time. Years. If ever. 

Bucky will never be completely fixed. And-- And he needs to have this conversation with Steve. 

Sam is treated to a nice meal and given a new phone. He’s sure it’s got a tracking device on it and is as much for T’Challa’s benefit as his but it’s good to have something. The background photo is a red-tailed hawk. 

It’s got Steve’s new number programmed in so Sam texts Steve to meet him in his room later. He hasn’t seen Steve since they got off the jet. 

The framed bird pictures are gone when he gets back. Clearly just a little prank. Sam kind of misses them. 

There are some clothes hanging in the closet. He showers and pulls on a really nice pair of linen pajamas. He gets into bed and starts trying to figure out how to use the phone. It’s sleek and way more advanced than anything he’s ever used. 

There’s a soft knock at his door and Steve slips inside. He’s wearing flannel pajamas and a t-shirt. He closes the door behind him and just stands there, looking. Looking at Sam. Sam still can’t get his head around that, that Steve is doing more than just indulging Sam’s crush. He moves to the side of the bed and taps the vacant space next to him. Steve joins him. 

“Is that phone fancy for you too? Thought it might just be me.” 

“Not just you. Thanks for coming.” 

“Sure, I was wondering where you were staying.” 

Sam feels his face heat. “Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“No but, really? It’s been an emotional day for you.” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually. If I’m going to be helping Bucky I wanted to do some work with you too. Like couples counseling. You need to be prepared. He’s not going to be the same. He’s never going to be the same. He will be better. Not necessarily than he was but better than he is now.” 

“I don’t need him the same, I just want him back.” 

“What if he needs to be away from you to get better?”

Steve furrows his brow. 

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Sam assures him. “He’s been away from you all this time. He’s going to need you now. But you’ll need to be patient and understand he’s been awake more than you have. It’s going to be different.” Steve nods. “On the plus side, you can be boyfriends now.” That makes Steve smile. “Had you really done nothing?”

“We’d kissed. Touched each other a little. Usually through clothes. The only time we ever came in each other’s presence was when we jerked off.” 

“Take it slow. We have time now.” 

“Planning on it. Really slow. The other night was fun but maybe I shouldn’t--”

“Gonna stop you right there. You absolutely should. Give him a sense of touch that will help anchor him in the moment. He’ll need that.” 

Steve is giving him a really soppy look. He leans in and kisses Sam. “Thank you. For this. It’s above and beyond.” 

Which is sweet but it means that Steve is not imagining Sam is present for any of that. Steve likes Sam. He likes flirting with and touching and kissing Sam. He’s in love with Bucky. 

Sam knows he’s setting himself up for disappointment but he also knows he’d rather enjoy this while he can. Make some memories before they break his heart. 

He sits up, puts the phone down, and kisses Steve. Steve cups the back of his head and neck in his hand, his fingers so gentle it makes Sam moan. He climbs into Steve’s lap. Steve runs his hands up Sam’s chest and Sam dives for the bedside table. He finds lube and then remembers this is T’Challa’s palace. 

“Well my goodness,” Steve says. 

“Yeah like. I’m glad this is here but--” 

“He’s a very thoughtful host.” 

Sam can imagine T’Challa giggling. 

 

When he wakes up Steve is still in his bed. He’d passed out pretty quickly, making himself stay awake after sex long enough to be chivalrous and wash up and not a moment more. They’d traded blowjobs with Sam showing Steve how to stretch. Lots of lube, go slowly. He doesn’t want Steve to leap into sex the way he does everything, with so little regard for his own safety. Steve would never do anything to hurt his partner, knowingly or otherwise, but there are a hundred ways he could hurt himself by being too eager. Sam shows him that the prep can be fun all by itself. 

If they ever have sex he doesn’t know which he’d prefer, topping or being topped by Cap. Both scenarios are an equal turn-on. For now just touching is fine. Perfect. In the army he’d never had time to be tender. Steve only had time for tenderness that could be explained away as friendship. They meet in the middle. 

Someone knocks on the door. Sam pulls on his pajama bottoms and goes to answer it. It’s T’Challa, looking worried. 

“I don’t mean to alarm you but it seems as though Steve Rogers was not in his room last night.” 

Sam stares at him but T’Challa seems genuinely concerned. So Sam throws the door open, where the super-serum man-mountain is still visible in his bed. T’Challa’s eyes go wide only for a moment. 

“That is a relief.” 

“Are you tracking our phones?”

“Of course.” 

“Knew it.” 

“I’ll have some breakfast sent up.” 

 

“You seemed pretty surprised for someone who made sure there was lube in my room,” Sam says later. 

“Lubricant has many purposes.” 

“One of them is sex.” 

“Indeed. Not necessarily with men.” 

“Is this one of those conservative African countries?”

“We have existed for a millenia without any outside influence.” 

“And?”

T’Challa takes another drink. “You know that we are the most technologically advanced countries in the world. Without a doubt. Stark is talented but he is decades behind what our technical students are creating.” 

Sam has no idea where he is going with this. 

“We can hack any computer but cannot be hacked as our systems are built on a completely different set of principles. Right down to the code, we are different. Because all other systems are binary. And we are not.” 

He sits back and takes another drink. Sam blinks at him. Because he just used a big metaphor about computers to tell him he’s not straight. 

“Are you talking about you or everyone?”

“I have anecdotal evidence that it’s not just me.” 

“But it is also you.” 

T’Challa shrugs. “We are not taught to keep the genders separate or that loving one is better or worse than another. Without those assumptions many connections can be made, of all kinds. I was surprised this morning because your friend was raised differently.” 

“Oh he’s super gay, he might be gayer than I am.” That’s probably not true and Sam isn’t sure how they would measure their relative gayness (number of partners just isn’t fair, maybe Wakanda has some kind of meter) but he feels like defending his Captain. 

T’Challa just smiles. “It’s not a competition.” 

Sam would like to see a competition. 

 

They unfreeze Bucky the next day. Sam and Steve are both there, standing by anxiously. It’s not as traumatic as Sam had feared. Bucky had gone under willingly and with his memories intact so he’s relatively calm when he comes to. He is weak though and Steve has to carry him. He lifts him into his arms, bridal-style. It’d almost be romantic if it weren’t so upsetting. 

Bucky looks at Sam and for a horrible moment Sam worries he’s forgotten him; the short-term memories are harder for him to hold on to. Sam is surprised by how much this upsets him. Bucky looks at him a moment longer and then smiles. 

He has to spend the rest of the day under medical observation but he gets rubber stamped and they have dinner with the king. 

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Sam asks him. 

“Yes.” 

Fair enough. 

“You should see Sam’s room,” T’Challa says when their dessert dishes are being cleared. “He’s got a great view.” 

Sam snorts and T’Challa is smiling again. When the fog cleared the first morning what did Sam see but a big-ass panther statue staring at him. He might have been given the best guest suite just so T’Challa could fuck with him some more. 

And T’Challa actually does like cats! It’s not like Sam had even been wrong! He’s so annoying. 

“Do we start therapy tomorrow?” Bucky asks. 

“Yeah, if you want to,” says Sam. 

“I think I should go to bed.” 

“Sure. Big day tomorrow.” 

Steve watches Bucky as he nods and looks down at his plate. After dinner Steve leaves with Bucky. Sam can feel T’Challa watching him so he straightens his shoulders and goes to his own room where he is uninterrupted. He is sure Steve is with Bucky. Even if they don’t touch Steve will be there through the night, keeping watch. 

 

“So how does this work,” Bucky asks. “Do I need to lie down on a couch or anything?”

“Hey man, we’re just hanging out. Chatting.” 

“Okay.” Bucky shifts uncomfortably. 

“Tell me about Steve.” 

“Why?” He barely moves but there’s a shift in his posture that means he’s on high alert now. 

“Why why? Did they make you tell them about Steve?”

“I… I think so? I don’t really remember. Which could mean they didn’t or they did and wiped me.” 

“I’m not looking for intel. I’m just trying to get on your level.” 

“You like him.” 

“Yeah, who doesn’t?”

“Stark.” 

“For now.” 

“You didn’t see him.” 

Sam shrugs and waits. 

“You seem like an observant guy, you know a lot already. Maybe more than I do.” 

Nice try, Sam thinks. “Broad strokes. Tell me details.” 

“He always had pencils with him. A notebook if he could afford it but he would draw on scraps of paper or whatever he could find. Talked about getting a job at a newspaper or ad place, make some money and provide for his mom. Then he just wanted to get her a nice headstone. He probably would have done alright, he was pretty good. I used to joke about modeling for him.” 

That takes Sam by surprise. “So you…” 

“It’s very flattering everyone thinks he was pining after me but that is just not the case.” 

“Even before the serum?”

“Maybe especially? It’s not just a steroid. It’s an enhancer. So it made him look like his insiders. I can’t believe he didn’t turn into a golden retriever.” 

Sam laughs. “You too.” 

“Yeah well.” He gestures to the stump where his arm used to be. 

“That’s not the serum.” 

Bucky shrugs. 

“That was you wounded in action. Pretty badly if you already had the serum and still needed to be amputated. You would have died if you hadn’t been tested on. Vets with near death experience are almost always fucked up after and that’s even with excellent care.” It goes without saying that the care Bucky received was not excellent. 

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You were in active combat.” 

“Yeah but nary a scratch. It was my partner. Shot out of the sky, he was dead before he hit the ground. Doesn’t stop me from wondering.” 

“Survivor’s guilt.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Maybe you should have these sessions with Steve too.” 

“Maybe I should.” 

They chat a little more, nothing serious, and Bucky walks away sparking like a raw wire. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he ran off to find Steve. 

He doesn’t see either one of them for the rest of the night. He tells himself he’s fine with it and goes in search of more Wakandan beer as he gets more and more convinced they’re not just playing checkers together. They’re both beautiful and alive and safe, against all odds, why wouldn’t they take advantage? Sam runs into Shuri and she shows him the game room. She kicks his ass at a high-tech version of ping-pong and Sam manages to forget about Steve and Bucky huddled up together. 

 

In their next session he doesn’t ask Bucky what he did the night before. He tells him what he told Steve: he’s not trying to make Bucky back into what he was, he’s trying to give him the opportunity to become whatever he wants to be.

“What I really want is to retire.” 

“You can do that.” 

“I can’t though. I have to make up for everything I’ve done.” 

“Is that possible?” Sam asks as kindly as he can. 

“No,” Bucky says, hanging his head. “I can’t undo what I’ve done. But I can do some good, try to balance the scales a little.” 

“Is this an afterlife thing? Trying to work your way into heaven?”

“We don’t really talk about the afterlife. What matters is what you do during your time on earth. So I can at least try to use what I’ve got and be a little more like Steve.” 

“There are worse people to choose for a role model.” 

“Ain’t that the truth. I think I hung out with him so he could make me better. Pretty selfish.” 

“You’re a balance. He needed you to save his dumb ass.” 

Bucky mulls this over a bit. “Can we finish this conversation in the kitchen, I have a craving…”

They find flour, yeast, eggs, and oil easily. The honey is a little harder to find but they scrounge some up. Bucky starts making the dough but it’s difficult with one arm and Sam jumps in to help. They knead for a while and then let it rise. “You’re going to have to help me braid it too,” Bucky says. 

When Sam realizes what they’re making he laughs so hard he doubles over, wheezing. Bucky watches him impassively for the whole time it takes Sam to calm down. 

“Tell me about growing up in Brooklyn.” 

“We thought a lot about where we would get our next meal. I think we spent most of our money on hot dogs from a cart. I could at least pretend to keep kosher, you know.” 

They sit on the counter and Bucky talks about Coney Island and sneaking onto the subway without tokens, riding the Cyclone until they threw up, taking girls dancing when it got dark. 

“Girls?” 

“Yeah well, I couldn’t dance with the partner I really wanted but I like to dance. Liked.” 

“When’s the last time you danced?”

“The day before I shipped out.” 

Sam hops down from the counter and, after poking the walls and fridge doors, finds the digital controls for a music player. He tunes it until he finds something with a decent beat. It’s a classic hip-hop mix. Sam starts moving as he checks the bread. Bucky hops down too and looks. “It’s ready.” He shows Sam the braid pattern. Sam pinches a little of the dough and forms them into triangles. Steve and T’Challa walk into the kitchen, twin stern expressions that don’t clear when they take in the scene: Sam and Bucky bouncing from side to side, Sam mouthing along as he puts the triangles of bread on the top of the braid. 

“If you really want to party with me, let me see just what you got for me, put all your hands where my eyes can see…” 

“What’s up?” Steve says, expression still concerned. 

“I got peckish,” Bucky says, sliding over to the oven and turning the knob. 

Sam holds up the baking pan, showing off a fat braided loaf with cat ears at the top. “T’Challah.” 

 

They end all their therapy sessions with a dance party. It’s good to expel the tension and emotions that build up while they talk. 

They’re dancing around the fact that they’re held each other while naked. It’s the one thing they don’t talk about that hangs in the air between them. They manage to avoid it, even when they get close to dance. Sometimes they don’t even notice until they’re all but grinding together, hips moving together to the beat. Bucky really likes hip-hop. 

Then Steve comes in and they disappear and Sam spends the rest of the night not thinking about what they’re doing. Shuri or T’Challa hang out with Sam most of the time, sometimes just chilling. A few times Shuri has Sam down to the lab to talk about his wings. He didn’t build them but he had to learn how to fix them so he has a decent understanding of the mechanics. 

He gets really into it and doesn’t notice the time whizzing by. It’s late when he gets back to his room but he’s still keyed up and excited. Things are going well with Bucky. He’s clearly getting on well with Steve. Maybe Sam can get back into the field again. 

He jerks off thinking about hard muscles under smooth skin and thick thighs squeezing around him. He falls asleep soon after he comes. 

 

He brings it up with Steve the next day. Working again, not the masturbating. “And you and Bucky are getting on well right?”

Steve looks wounded for a moment, perhaps not expecting to be called out like that. Sam keeps his face natural but Steve only looks more despondent. “I think we’re still technically outlaws.” 

“Oh yeah.” Somehow Sam had managed to forget that Steve had snuck him out of supermax. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s ok.” 

He asks Bucky if they don’t mind skipping a session that day. Bucky agrees but looks concerned. Sam goes down to Shuri’s lab and volunteers to test some of her tech. 

“Cool! I usually have to go looking for test subjects!” 

He should have taken that as a warning. 

 

“I’d laugh but you made my sister very happy,” T’Challa says as Sam limps up to dinner. He’s got a laugh in his voice anyway and Sam can’t even be mad because he’s being cute about his sister. 

“Glad everyone is here to see this,” he grouches, nodding at Bucky and Steve who are joining them this time. 

“Maybe I should volunteer,” Steve says. “It’s a little harder to damage me, no offense Sam.” 

“None taken.” 

“Shuri will get her work done, volunteers or no,” says T’Challa. “And she should be focusing more on her schoolwork anyway.” 

“Schoolwork? Is she in grad school?”

“My sister is sixteen.” 

“What?!” Sam says and starts laughing. The girl is more brilliant than Tony and a third his age, it’s too good to be true. “What’s she still in school for?” 

“History, philosophy, ethics. There are all important to the development of a scientific mind. Research ethics in particular should be important to her. And for you.” 

“Can’t say no to that.” Sam raises his glass and takes a big drink. 

“You can have your friends check you over for bruises later,” T’Challa says with a wink and everyone around the table blushes. Bucky becomes very interested in his plate. “Ah, forgive me. Perhaps tomorrow we can go for a tour of Wakanda.” 

After dinner Sam corners Steve. “Hey man. If you need anything let me know ok? I want you to be safe.” 

“Are you worried?” 

“Not really, but I’m here for you.” 

“I know that Sam,” Steve says with a smile as he claps him on the arm. The hand doesn’t leave a bruise like the words do. Sam spends the night alone again. Seems like they’re doing fine on their own. 

He keeps an eye on them the next morning as they load into a jeep for their tour. Neither one appears to be in any discomfort. If they’re fucking they figured out lube. T’Challa probably left some for them too. He wonders how bro code works in Wakanda. What even would bro code be? He can’t hold it against T’Challa for not knowing how to navigate the three of them when Sam can’t even figure it out himself. He can’t sleep with his patient, but it would be nice not to be dismissed so thoroughly. 

He’s grumpy the whole trip, even though they get within a few yards of actual wildlife. They see giraffes and elephants and yes, panthers. They’re big and lazy, lying in trees and chirping to each other. He wonders if T’Challa is going to chirp back. If he can talk to panthers he keeps it quiet. Steve takes pictures on his phone. 

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks Sam when they sit down together that afternoon for another session. 

“I ask the questions here.”

“Why? You look… stormy. We can take another day off.” 

“This isn’t about me.” Sam is trying to be professional. He’s not even a real therapist, he volunteered at the VA. He’s good at it but his training was minimal. He thinks that even a trained therapist wouldn’t know how to deal with this situation. A trained therapist probably wouldn’t but it’s not like he can issue Bucky a referral. Then again, there are probably other shrinks in Wakanda. “What do you think of seeing another therapist?” he asks Bucky. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have woken me up.” 

“C’mon man, the solution to everything isn’t putting you on ice for a while. You’ve got to deal with stuff. Maybe someone who isn’t so close to it.” 

“That… that might be good actually.” 

Great. 

Sam is in a really foul mood at dinner. T’Challa calls him on it, saying those actual words, and Sam knows he’s making a pun. He’s not in the mood for more bird jokes. He gets tipsy on the beer T’Challa gives him. It’s got to be stronger than anything American or European, it’s hitting him hard. He uses that plausible deniability again to mutter something about jerkoff marathons, feeling savagely pleased at the uncomfortable expression on Steve’s face. Bucky asks T’Challa about therapists, compounding Sam’s humiliation. He excuses himself and goes to bed, falling asleep before he can do anything else. 

 

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says in the morning. It’s just he, Steve, and Bucky. T’Challa sent up breakfast with a note that he couldn’t make it. The note is on a postcard featuring a bird of paradise on the front. This is comforting to Sam, T’Challa being familiar enough to tease. The other two look wary. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine. I think it’s a good idea Bucky is finding someone else to talk to.” 

“We do too,” Steve says. 

Sam tries not to wince. “That way he’ll be able to talk about the two of you without worrying how they feel.” 

“I’ve talked about us,” Bucky says, confused. 

“In the past, sure, I mean now. I’m... “ He takes a big breath. He can be mature, he can talk about this like his heart isn’t currently aching. “I’m sure you’ve been feeling a lot of things recently. I hope you are, if he’s doing it right.” He forces out a big laugh. 

“Doing what right?” Steve asks, brow furrowing. 

“Steve, c’mon.” 

“Doing… sex?” 

The way he says it makes Sam burst out into hysterical laughter. Bucky cracks a smile but Steve still looks concerned and confused. When Sam finally calms down he says “yeah man, obviously.” 

“With each other?”

“Yes!” 

“But we’re… we haven’t… we’re not…”

“Wait,” Bucky says. “So you two aren’t…. Steve you asshole!” 

“What? What did I do?”

“You didn’t tell him we aren’t sleeping together!” 

“Why should I, we aren’t!” 

“But you didn’t tell him that!”

“Because it’s obvious, why would we sleep together without him?”

Sam can not accurately describe the feelings that happen in his chest. It’s some kind of weight that makes him feel lightness. Like his heart has been fed. 

“So no one is sleeping with anyone,” he says, just to recap. Bucky shakes his head. 

“This whole time, you thought he and I were…” says Steve. “No. We talked. About memories. But nothing more.” 

“Didn’t even sleep in the same bed,” Bucky confirms. 

“That’s… I didn’t wish for that,” Sam says. “I was jealous but you two, you need to do what you have to.” 

“We can still talk can’t we?” Bucky says, looking at him directly, eyes big and earnest. “Even after I get a Wakandan doctor to talk to about how stupid you both are, honestly. But we can still talk. The three of us.” 

“Yeah. We can do that.” 

It’s weird at first, then not, to just sit down and have breakfast like they aren’t all currently outlaws suffering from different versions of PTSD who all decided they’re in a relationship together. It’s also weird at first, then not, when they figure out the sound system in the room and Sam and Bucky teach Steve how to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> The follow-up to All Caps Do Europe that just kinda happened. Posting right before Black Panther comes out so we'll see how that goes.


End file.
